I'm Not Your Hero
by tea-wife
Summary: AU: The Isles' find themselves involved with the Rizzoli Family, a known crime syndicate.
1. Prologue

"You don't have to do this."

"What I don't have is a choice."

"There is _always _a choice."

The stand-off had only been momentary, the taller of the two young women proving that her athletic figure was not just for show. Even though Maura had been shown how to use the gun numerous times the small glock had been too heavy for her shaking grip, easy to swipe away by the woman who's own weapon reacted like a fluid extension of her well sculptured limbs. All too easily she was disarmed and held back at gunpoint, with nowhere to run from the person she had always ran towards for solitude.

"Jane..."

"Don't."

"Please, Jane. Just listen to me!"

"You _killed_ him, Maura. Fuck! We could have figured this out, told him the truth, gone on the run and-"

"He was going to kill you, Jane."

"What?"

"He knew. He knew everything, and he threatened to take your life. So I took his."


	2. Chapter 1

A screech of the chair legs against the concrete floor resonated throughout the quayside building, the brunette rising with a forceful push from the table, not quite able to understand why her father was asking this of her.

"Protection? C'mon Pop, you know that's Frankie's area."

Even as she paced, Frank Sr's features remained as hardened as the floor her boots scuffed against, his own weathered and wrinkled brow more relaxed than the scowl of thought across his daughter's face. It was just typical of his eldest, to hate change before it had even happened. A Rizzoli trait for sure, they both knew it – and yet it still pissed the family patriarch off every single time.

_Do as a I say, not as I do._

"Well maybe I decided that I wanted it to be your area, Janey."

Stubborn as a bull, the young woman lived up to the cliché as a snort flared through her nostrils, "Since when?"

"Since now, that's when" His wife, Jane's mother, would always say that Frank brought out the worst in their daughter. It was at time's like this that the head of the Rizzoli crime family could do nothing but agree, knowing full well that there was a lot more to Jane than the attitude filled brat pacing in front of his desk, so long as she was in the middle of some action "Now sit your ass down and start listenin' to what I tell'ya."

"Fine." Shoving the chair closer to the desk, Jane did as she was told with a laboured sigh of submission. When enough was enough, she knew it, and although it didn't always sound like it she respected her father. Most of the time. "So, what's the business."

Leaning forward in his own chair, Frank Sr was silent for a minute as he thought about his next words, and how to phrase them"It's not so much a business... as it is an asset."

"Wait, what?" her eyebrows were knotted again "I know it's usually Tommy who's a little slow on the uptake but you've lost me, Pop."

This time it was his turn to sigh "You know the deal we got goin' with the Isles family?"

Jane nodded in response, "Sure, we don't take them for everything they've got so long as we get a cut of the '_art_' being shipped in from Europe." One particular word she used lightly – art. As far as Jane knew, and that wasn't actually all that much, Mr and Mrs Isles were using their contacts in Europe to ship counterfeits of well known paintings to America. All hush hush and hunkydory until one transaction had gone down too close to her Pop's warehouse...

"Well, it turns out we'aint the only ones with an eye on'em." Finally the ageing man showed signs of stress, and as he leant back in the comfort of his chair Jane was soon to realise why. "Doyle's interested."

"_Paddy Doyle_?" Jane's mouth stayed open for a moment, her brain struggling with the shock "Shit."

"Yeah, more or less what they had to say too." Less, rather than more, Jane was sure of that. Having seen the Isles' only once since their budding 'partnership' with her family had started she could never imagine either of the refined pair swearing – although she supposed being the filling in a mob gang sandwich might changed things...

Frank continued "Thing is, there's one particular item that's more valuable to them than anything else, and I told them – I said 'it's like this. Either we keep her by force or we...'"

"_Her?"_

Clearly he hadn't thought the detail would phase Jane, her father continuing on without pause "Their daughter, Maura. Otherwise known as our insurance. So long as we keep an eye on her, Paddy won't nab her and demand that he gets the cut, and we won't be pushed out of the picture."

"Let me get this straight," it took a firm grip from both of her hands to stop Jane from leaving the room, let alone just standing up again "You want me to waste my time to spy on some snobby artist, just so that the Irish mob don't ruin a damn deal?"

"No, what I want is for you to shut your smart mouth and do as you're told!" his slamming down onto the wood between them, Frank's raise of voice caused Jane to flinch. Automatically her eyes dropped to the grain, no snarky retort leaving her lips. A part of who she was, what she did, was to push men to their limits. To prove them all wrong. As a young woman in a crime syndicate it would be stupid if she didn't. Jane knew, however, that it was also damn stupid to push Frank Rizzoli – the _boss_ of that crime syndicate, and a man on par with Patrick Doyle, the mobster who had made her mouth drop upon hearing his name.

He'd never hurt her, of course. Little Janey was his princess, the apple of his eye. And yet... There would always be that 'what if' in the back of her brain...

"You're good at what you do Janey, and I wouldn't trade you in for a million Rizzoli sons." Brown eyes finally directing their gaze upwards, Jane started to relax as she felt her father's hand take hold of her own "It's why I'm asking you to do this, because you'll do it right."

Now she definitely couldn't say no"So when do I start the detail?"

"You don't. You start as her minder at nine o'clock tomorrow morning."

Jane just couldn't help herself. "Her what?!"

Across the city, a similar and just as stressful conversation was taking place in the Isles' Household, the three family members sat together at the dining table – their conversation far less palatable than the dish they had just eaten, and much harder for Maura to digest.

"And I suppose you're just going to bend to their will, is that it?" Back rigid and eyes wide, the youngest participant could not believe what her parents were telling her. How could their lives be in danger when they were, as far as Maura understood, a respectable family? How was it that a man as astute as her father could get involved with _mobsters? _A group of violent criminals!

"Maura, you don't understand what these men are capable of." Hands close together, the lone man at the table twisted the golden band on his left ring finger, a nervous habit that had lead Maura to deduce that a problem had arisen, much early than the end of the meal "I'd much rather just know that my one and only daughter is safe. Surely you can comprehend that?"

Throughout her life Maura had always been top of her class; received the best grades, found it pleasurable to work for extra credit, and read books aimed to those beyond her years. Although was a modest woman, there was no denying that she was most definitely a genius. So why was her father suddenly so intent on treating her as if she were dim? "Of course I can. What I don't understand is why you can't just go to the police!"

"Darling, please. Lower your voice." Having allowed her husband to take the reins of the conversation, Constance had chosen to stay quiet. It now seemed apparent that having a daughter who was taught to speak up for what she believed in was not as positive a trait as they had hoped.

Not that they had ever hoped for any of this to happen.

Still Maura stood her ground "No, mother. I will not silence myself over matters that concern my safety. My family's safety!" Her father's eyes still did not reach her own, looking from his ring, to her mother, but never into her own "There's something you're not telling me, isn't there."

"Maura, there are some things you just don't need to know."

"I beg your pardon? I'm twenty-five years old, father."

Again the older female tried to pacify the situation "What your father is trying to say is that it would not be beneficial for you to know. We're thinking about you, darling."

Not wishing to be impolite did not stop the curtness of the young woman's next words, something that finally caught her distracted father's attention "Of course you are."

"And just what exactly are you trying to imply, young lady?"

"Richard, please. It's quite understandable for the girl to be distressed, we have just had to explain her need for a personal bodyguard, after all." Constance's words finally seemed to resonate with her family, her dulcet tones of reason making the tension at the dinner table thinner than before. Both her husband and child seemed to relax into the fine carving of the chairs behind them, their postures less stiffened. Taking this as a sure sign she continued "That's better. Now then, Maura. Will you accept the knowledge that we are currently in the middle of a transaction that has been more troublesome than most, and that we would like to ensure your safety in a more... _Personal_ regard than the police would allow?"

"I suppose so, although you can hardly expect me to be happy about it."

For the first time that evening her mother smiled, "Maura, darling. If any of us were happy about this arrangement then we'd all be committed to an asylum. For now it is just something we have to accept, however unwilling."

"Well, may I ask when he starts?"

"She starts tomorrow, expected to join us after breakfast."

"_She_?"


End file.
